A Piece Disturbed
by Xelikzap
Summary: What do you do when the one person who's ever looked out for you vanishes? Leo Dorian is seven when facing that problem. His brother's just disappeared and he's being hunted. Can those like Remy LeBeau and Bobby Drake help him find his way? OC's , R&R.
1. Prologue

Where could he be? It was not like him to be gone so long. Sure, he left for work, that he had learned to accept, but he was at school five of those seven days and he had always been there to pick him up afterwards. It was Saturday now, which meant he had to wait for eight hours for his brother to come home from work, but it had been fourteen hours now and there was no sign of Shawn.

Now Shawn was a good brother, he had picked up the slack as soon as his mother had run off. He had never reported her, never called the police and told them she had left him in charge of a brother nearly ten years his minor. He knew that they would split them up, put them in foster homes and go through family after family. He had watched television specials, and knew what might happen to his little brother in a cruel foster home. So instead, he had quit high school, and gone to work at the local construction sites. The foreman always paid in cash, and he didn't care how old Shawn was. And so it was, with his seven day a week job and the welfare checks the government unknowingly sent to their mother that he raised the little brother that he loved so dearly. With that hard earned money he fed and clothed young Leo, and even bought him a gift or two instead of buying himself that heat pack he so desperately needed. Shawn would do anything to know he was the one that put the smile on Leo's face. That smile which radiated innocence and joy in their purest forms and seemed to rid the world of all its troubles, if only for just a moment.

Now this was not to say there were not problems. Any family had problems, no matter the size or class or wealth of its members, but they got through them. Like when he discovered his precious baby brother was a mutant. Shawn nearly had an aneurism that day, his face creased with fear and his brain going a mile a minute. He was not afraid of what his brother could do; in fact, he didn't really know what his abilities were. He was afraid for his Leo's safety, for the safety of his baby brother. Shawn himself was a mutant, although nobody could tell just by looking at him. He could merge with substances, although not metal or some plastics. It had occurred when he was about thirteen, and he somehow covered his hands in paper. His mother had beaten him for being so careless with crazy glue and would not believe he had not used any. He had since trained himself to control such small things from happening, but there was an occasional slip when he got too emotional.

There were recent anti-mutant sentiments throughout the nation which didn't bode well for either him or his baby brother. It had consumed the closed minded and fearful of the nation, twisting the image of mutants in the eyes of many. Shawn feared his baby brother would be lost in some massacre in the near future, or used as experiments in some lab. It was of no concern what happened to him as long as his young charge was safe. Shawn wished he had some way to protect his brother, some powerful mutation of his own, like that "radical mutant terrorist group" the news always talked about.

He had once been invited into a school for people like himself. He could not remember the name of the school, although there were a few of the cards laying about the apartment. This strange man in a wheelchair had come to him a few days after the paper incident back when his mother was still with them. This man had told him he helped people with mutations and kept them safe. Shawn seriously doubted the honesty of that statement but had taken a few cards as to not offend the man. And now, four years later Shawn was missing, and a young Leo fell asleep without his big brother for the first time in seven years.

Leo walked slowly through the crowded streets of New York in little more than a day old shirt and blue jeans. He had woken up in the early hours of the morning only to find himself alone and staring outside as the sun tried to penetrate the mass of clouds overhead. He would not go to school today, he had decided, a decision made without the influence of brother or parent. Leo was strangely proud of this and had walked the streets with shoulders high. At the young age of almost eight he possessed an intellect far above normal, but he didn't excel at school, often finding himself forgetful and uninterested. Instead Leo acted in the way one might expect a twelve year old would act. His youth made him unaware of the world around him and consequently unafraid. He would talk back in a way one never expected a seven year old to behave, and his remarks were almost always witty. Yet, in his heart he was truly a child and held his big brother at a level of adoration all his own. Leo attempted to mimic his brother in every way, proud to learn the lessons Shawn was unknowingly giving. Leo had once believed the world was as his brother had chosen it to be, perfect and undisturbed. However, he would learn differently, his foolishness beaten out of him by experience and the mark of time.

The youngest Dorian was new to his mutation and had yet to know the extent of his powers. Unlike most mutants he possessed no horrible manifestation story, no repressed memory that would haunt his dreams as an adult. He had simple woken one day to find he could sense his brother, or more correctly his brother's mutation. It was a strange feeling, new and unexplored yet it felt surprisingly natural. Leo was not sure what was happening to him and so woken Shawn up to tell him. Surely Shawn would have the answer, Shawn knew everything. His brother seemed angry at him that day, a side of him that Leo had hardly ever seen. But no, he was not angry. Shawn's jaw was clenched shut, his knuckles white from his grip, and the lines of his face frowned in discontentment. Leo looked into the eyes of his big brother to plea for forgiveness, yet had stopped mute with slack jawed amazement. There was a snivel and the tears had stopped as quickly as they had started, as if stopped by sheer will alone. They had not talked about it since.

Leo tugged on the arm of his shirt while deep in thought. It was something he had done all his life, and yet had never noticed. Shawn had always smiled when he saw his baby brother like that, what a seven year old could be thinking was beyond him. Leo walked slowly though the crowded New York streets. His legs led without direction, as if he needed to be moving in order to stay alive. It was eleven days ago that he had manifested, a singularly happy moment for him. Somewhere in the stealth of night he had become a little more like his brother, one step closer to his hero. Now his brother was missing, gone without reason or inclination. And yet he knew he would see his brother again, with the perfect assurance only a seven year old could muster. Shawn had to come home, anything contrary to this fact was impossible.

So far gone in the recesses of his mind, he was surprised to hear a startled "Ugh!" as he was drenched in stale cold coffee. "Sorry!" Leo said, apologizing profusely with the true sincerity of a child, "I wasn't watching where I was-"

"Non, it's fine cher. Y' don' have t' apologize. Remy didn' watch where he was goin' neither." In fact, the young man that had referred to himself as Remy had noticed, and he had made it a point to bump into the child. Albeit he had not meant to spill his coffee on the poor thing, but accidents happened. Remy had grown up in the streets, scouting his surroundings was second nature to him now. So while Leo had not noticed the three strange men following him, Remy had. It was after all, his profession, 'World's Top Third Thief' or something to that extent. His eyes were shaded in darkness as they analyzed the boy critically. He didn't look so special; he was just like any other kid his-.

"You're a mutant too!" Shouted Leo with the intensity only a child of his years had the capability to reach. The statement was made as a matter of fact, but was not accusing. If anything it was a tone of approval, as if being a mutant was a good thing. Remy had constantly heard people say that mutations were a gift. But it had become mechanical for those trying to spearhead the mutant cause. It was something one was expected to say, and held no sincerity. Yet, this young child had managed to throw such emotion, such zeal, into four little words. Remy suppressed a smile, reveling in the feeling of worthiness.

"Shhh, cher! Y' never know who be watchin', waitin' f' y' to slip." He paused for a moment in his cryptic speech, scanning the area, almost assessing it. "C'mon an' stay close." It was odd for a man in his early twenties to behave so oddly, and he managed to be odd with such few words it was stunning. The man suddenly took off at a great stride and didn't even bother looking back. The boy hesitated, he had never seen an odder man, but had decided to run after him. His short legs and slight hesitation put him at a disadvantage and he soon found the gap growing even larger. Remy must have noticed, as he slowed his stride to a leisurely stroll. They were headed into the smaller streets and the more prosperous sides of the city. Leo, panting with the effort, caught up to the man and started rambling.

"So, your mutation lets you charge stuff huh? And it-" was all he had time to get out. The Cajun stopped and spun around. Remy had seen a lot of things in his time and so a child who knew much about him wasn't surprising. Yet, he was eager to know how the kid knew this stuff, wondering if it had anything to do with the mysterious men who were still following from a great distance.

"How d' y' know dat? And why dem guys followin' y'?" He meant to ask when the kid was safe, but suspicions were rising and intentions questioned. These days nobody could be trusted, not even a little boy. He wondered if in fact he was helping the right person, one tended to make mistakes in split second decisions.

"Guys?" The boy asked, he turned around but saw nobody suspicious, surely this man was kidding. "And you feel different from everyone else." He said, answering the first question with no transition in between. Lately some people just gave a pull as if attached to the boy by an invisible force. When Leo examined these strings he knew what they could do, or what was done to them. The odd thing about this man was, he had not only that main pull but loads of small ones. "You do a lot more then charging stuff huh? Like your eyes."

As way of answer the man grunted and shrugged one shoulder. He continued his massive stride again, just brisk enough that the child had to run. He meant to keep up with this young mutant, but running kept the boy from talking. It appeared the boy was in trouble. Why was it always him that got the ones in need of help?

"M' name's Remy LeBeau, but everyone calls m' Gambit. What d' they call y'?" said the Cajun around the cigarette of sweet clove in his mouth. Somehow he managed to keep smiling, even through drags of tobacco and accented speech. Remy's smiles were warm and affectionate, as if each smile was to a personal friend. He had an air of confidence about him, a lazy reassurance associated with his presence.

For the first time Leo noticed that the stranger's sunglasses had slipped down, so that the tops of his eyes were barely visible. The child was drawn deep by into Gambit's eyes, pulled in by the red pupils and black irises. He stared not with an adult's fear, but was memorized with a child's curiosity. With only the single mindedness of a boy, Leo had forgotten the question completely. Frustrated, the man gave a single glance back and saddled his motorcycle.

"Oh! Uh. My Name is Leo Dorian. I live at 5701 Ramsdale Drive." It was recited from memory, the chant one told a child if he happened to get lost. Yet, the two brothers had no telephone to have a number, and he certainly didn't wish to reference his mother.

"Oui," said Remy, still waiting for the child to continue. "Hop on," the man looked at Leo impatiently as he started the ignition. The kid wasn't getting on. He scoffed, "Y' comin'?"

"My brother Shawn says not to talk to strangers, especially ones who want to take me someplace." Leo stated this proclamation of the almighty word of Shawn with honor in his voice, but Remy merely chuckled. He found it funny that a kid his age who was walking the streets when he should have been in school was lecturing him. If he met this so called Shawn he was going to beat some sense into the man for allowing it.

"Ole Remy ain't gonna do nothin' but take y' home. He promise." He stressed this point by widening his smile, and somehow taking a deeper drag of his cigarette. The three men had stopped a bit in the distance. They had obviously not expected the kid to be mobile, as they had not brought a car of their own, and this miscalculation was fortunate for the boy.

Somewhere in the few seconds of the Cajun's speech Leo had decided to trust him. The man was not threatening, and anyone who smiled like that couldn't be bad. And the man wasn't a stranger, his name was Remy. He already knew more about him then he did his teacher at school. In this way his youth came in useful to both of them. He would not have trusted so easily if not for the inexperience he had in the world, and similarly Remy would not have helped him if he were older. And so, Leo climbed on the bike with an almost complete stranger. He clung onto the back of Gambit trustingly, as if he was a man he had known all his life. Together child and young man sped off making complicated and time consuming patterns. In this chain of events a single domino had fallen, a single piece disturbed. Now a single person's hatred would cost people dearly. One would lose his life, the other his sanity, one more his spirit, and the last his integrity. Four would suffer at the hands of fate, forever bound by tragedy.


	2. Ch 1 : The Beginning

He was the man with the cold heart, forever condemned to indifference. It was ironic that this should be him, the man that wore ice as others wore armor. He relied on it to save him from the pain, from the long suffering tragedy that came with being what he was. He was not always like this, he had once trusted, once let others into his heart. He had been a normal run of the mill American boy, with a loving mother and father. He had a brother who annoyed him to hell and back but whom he had loved, although he would rather remove his own vocal cords than admit it. They were the real life June and Ward Cleaver, the perfect little nuclear family, and he was their perfect son. Their realized hopes and dreams and expectations had all gone into molding their eldest son, their pride and joy in life. He was Bobby Drake.

Luckily, his parents had never found out about his "gifts", they thought he was at a boarding school for young geniuses or something to that extent. He was one of the lucky few; his parents never had a chance to hate him, because they had never found out. Bobby knew he could never return to a normal life, the life of mediocrity which was predestined for the average American. He hated himself and his abilities for what they had taken from him, the simple future he had been promised.

Xavier had taken him in three days after his powers had first manifested. Luckily the central heating system at home was broken, and they blamed the cold and ice on the unforgiving winter instead of their sixteen year old son. Yet, Bobby still knew how his parents would react. They were joking about it once, telling him and his brother that they would rather die than have a mutant as a child. And they meant it.

Nobody but the Professor knew how detached Bobby was from his feelings. He had put on a brilliant act of smiles and warm affection. It helped that Bobby was indirect by nature. He avoided conflict at all costs, and always clothed his meaning in sweet words. His smiles were executed flawlessly and had pleasantries down to an art. As a result, everyone thought he was one of the nicest people they had ever met. Albeit they thought he was a little shy, but that could be easily forgiven. His parents weren't the real reason he was so detached from the world, but that's the excuse he told the Professor, and for some unknown reason the Professor pretended to buy it. And so, at sixteen years old, Bobby Drake became Iceman, both literally and metaphorically.

It was almost a year later that the newly seventeen year old Bobby Drake found himself staring down at the birthday cake Rouge had made him. She was a kindhearted girl. She had thrown Bobby a surprise party at the mansion, or rather school, for that is what the major population believed. "Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters". How gifted nobody knew, although not many of those in the mansion could be considered young. The party was fun, he would admit. Yes, he could have fun; he could enjoy a day full of laughter and excitement. He still had a few emotions as everybody did; he simply chose not to feel them for others. But while the man of ice enjoyed his double chocolate chip cake with vanilla frosting, a boy ten years his junior was going through a tragedy all his own.

Remy had a secret. Well, two if you counted the small one. The first was that he was an empath, a person with the ability to feel the emotions of others and manipulate them with his 'charm'. He told nobody, he knew how they would react. People often worried if what they felt or thought was really them, instead of someone's sick idea of fun. Of course, Remy would never do that, but others merely assumed the thief would do whatever struck his fancy. To them he was nothing more then a common criminal, someone who would do anything to get what they wanted. They judged him not on his race or mutation, but on his profession alone. His second, much smaller secret was barely worth mentioning in comparison. He had purposely avoided Bobby's surprise party. He had nothing against the boy; there were no personal grudges or long standing disputes. But he felt odd around him, empty almost. He could feel nothing from the teenager, and that disconcerted him. The boy was a hollow void, with the occasional flare of anger or some other small fleeting emotion. Now Gambit could shield in his empathy, keep it from reaching others fully, but he still felt a small twinge of foreign emotion. Remy had not realized how heavily he relied on his empathy to analyze the intents of others, to assess the threat they posed to him. And yet, he was unsure of Drake's intentions, never had he met such an odd person.

They parked a few blocks away from Leo's house. He lived in a bad neighborhood, and Gambit's bike was precious to him. How could a small child survive in such a bad place? Let alone turn out so innocent. Remy watched in amusement as the young one struggled to get off the bike, and eventually ended up having to help him. He stood his full height and adjusted his signature trench coat. Mornings annoyed him, something about the sun and just waking up and the eerie cheerfulness of others. As a result, he often woke up late and forgot to shave. Today was one of those days. A gloved hand reached up to stroke the auburn shadow, not that he could feel it through the leather. Remy wore gloves for no real reason, just as another layer of protection from others. They were more symbolic then anything else.

Sometime during Gambit's musing the kid had reached up to hold the hand that lay at Remy's side. He had unconsciously pulled away in reaction and stared at the kid as if he had tried to kill him. Well, if the kid HAD tried to kill him, he would probably have put less venom into the glare. Many people tried to kill Remy LeBeau. But Leo had not noticed, in fact, he just kept his hand up and stared expectantly. Surely, he could do THIS? He could kill assassins and rob multi-billion dollar industries. He had felt every emotion and feeling in human capacity. Yet, this was different. This kid trusted him, a thief and murderer, and no matter what others pretended, that was rare. And so, Remy took the hand of a young mutant, hunted for what he could do.

They walked with a leisurely stride in the brisk winter air. It was early December and the air was cold, but pleasant instead of unbearable. Leo was staring at his rescuer with such hard earnest fascination that only the guiding hand of Remy kept him from running into things. This man was a mystery to him, an oddity in every right. The only adult he had ever really known was his brother, but then again he wasn't really an adult was he? He was Shawn. Consciously, he had no idea what the difference was between those two words. Weren't they just words? But 'adult' didn't fit his brother. He was so much more then that, he was Leo's hero in every way.

They did not speak, and had not spoken since their introductions. Yet it was not an uncomfortable silence, not awkward and unusual. They didn't really need to talk, and what would they talk about? It was the presence of company, of human life and caring that they found in one another.

They soon arrived at Leo's apartment building, and climbed the many stairs leading up to the ninth floor. Surprisingly, the thief found the door unlocked, and he found that highly suspicious. He instinctively kept the child behind him and pulled out his expandable bo staff. The tiny one bedroom apartment was ruined, destroyed and vandalized. The intruders had not been looking for anything, not that the brothers had anything worth taking. No, they had been trying to send a message, and had succeeded at that. The beds were literally torn in half, the sinks ripped out, the walls hammered in. The three men had been part of a larger organization, and Remy realized they wanted the kid. They had destroyed his home, made it so he had nowhere to go but the streets. And nobody wondered where a street kid disappeared to.

He stood there, watching the child stare at the mutilated remains of his home, and he felt nothing. No sorrow, no anger, no hatred or pain. He felt perfectly normal, and that was not normal for Remy LeBeau. He could not block all foreign emotion, no matter how hard he tried some would get through. And yet, here he stood watching a young boy weep and rage at nobody in particular, and he felt normal. This was good news, his shielding was improving, his mastery over his powers increasing. It must be, what other explanation was there?

He had not noticed that his eyes were no longer red on black, but instead a rich shade of brown. They had been since Leo stepped inside his home.

They rode down to the mansion at breakneck speeds, with a small backpack filled to the brim. Here on the road, Remy could feel the anguish the kid was going through. So much pain for a seven year old, pain that many three times his age had yet to face. Life was unfair in that sense. No, not unfair, downright cruel. How a child could manage, Remy did not know, and so he didn't have to.

Manipulating emotion was not something Remy did often, or found right, but in this case it was acceptable. The child still remembered the fact that his brother was gone, but was not bothered in the slightest. He knew it was wrong, that it interfered with the mourning process, but he simply did not care. Gambit had decided he would spare this young Dorian from all the hurt he possibly could. Protect him from the evils of the world since he had nobody to keep them away. He was Leo's guardian, in every sense of the word.

They arrived at the mansion a bit after noon. It was eerily quiet, there were no teenaged mutants blowing up the front lawn or playing basketball. But then again, most everyone was in class now, weren't they? Remy carried the little one into the house, much to his squirming delight. The Professor was currently giving a lesson in either English or ethics; Remy couldn't be bothered remembering which was at noon. Storm and Scott were also teaching, so there were no authority figures to turn to. Remy simply carried the child into the kitchen. He placed him on the counter, little legs dangling over the edge to accidentally kick the cupboards. He wondered idly what kids Leo's age ate. As a kid living on the streets, he had pretty much eaten whatever he found. And so, Remy turned to peanut butter, possibly the best stuff on the planet.

He smiled as he gave the child his sandwich, and filled a glass with milk. "Growin' chil' needs his milk", he smiled at Leo's frown. Wordlessly, he stirred in some chocolate syrup. "But chocolate milk's better". This won a brilliant smile from Leo. It was a smile somebody in Remy's line of work rarely saw. It was a smile of pure bliss, of innocence. And to think, all it took was a little chocolate syrup.

It was in that moment that John bound into the kitchen, apparently ditching class. He was playing with his lighter, as always, the little pyromaniac. He stopped in front of the child, as if he were a new toy, and examined him with a lazy stare. There was no effort to speak with him, just a single eyebrow hiked in an inquisitive look. He nodded to Gambit by way of greeting, and grabbed a soda from the fridge. St. John Allerdyce held Gambit in high esteem, actually looked up to the not much older fellow. Perhaps it was their similar upbringing, or perhaps it was Remy's disregard for many of the rules. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because Remy was an obvious mutant. His eyes gave him away easily, and he could not blend in with the 'flatscans'. Nobody really knew, but a few of the more analytical members of the mansion noticed that John had never called the mutant Remy, just Gambit.

Remy was apparently unfazed by the fact the kid was skipping class and spitting fire from the lighter. It was the norm to those living at the mansion. His lighter had come to define him, and that was the reason he was so bound to it.

"Meet Leo. He havin' some trouble"

"Trouble? How much trouble can a kid his age get into?" Well, he HAD stolen a car at age ten, but he doubted the kid would live up to his personal legacy.

"Enough." He stated, with a single nod to emphasize the point. He could not discuss the men, for he had no idea what they wanted. For all he knew, they had no idea that the kid was a mutant. Heck, he would have doubted the validity of Leo's statement if he hadn't seen the kid's house, or felt his terror. No, he would wait to tell the student population that this was an attack on mutants, and he knew telling one would be as good as telling them all.

John shrugged one shoulder. He was used to the secrecy by now; one had to be in this household. He made his way out of the kitchen, presumably towards his room. The sound of his lighter clicking could be heard long after he turned the corner.

The lunch bell rang a few minutes later, but Remy paid no heed as children filed in to make lunch. Breakfast was up to the adults, and dinner to a hired cook, but lunch was a free for all. There were crashes of pots and pans, mindless bickering about which half was bigger, and an occasional discussion on which flavor of chips was better. He simply filtered out the noise as he filtered out the feelings. He still heard others, just like he felt them, but he simply chose not to look into it. Leo still sat happily, dangling his legs over the counter and somehow smiling through a mouthful of peanut butter. When he finished, he hopped down to put his plate in the sink, but found himself too short to reach into it. He was surprised (and just a bit scared) when Remy lifted him by the armpits, but began washing his dish and cup anyway. Shawn had trained him well. And precisely that was what caught the attention of the student body. Nobody here washed stuff until an adult yelled at them, and the younger kids didn't need to wash stuff at all. "Who's that?" and "Isn't he too young to manifest?" began to fill the air. They were used to being introduced to new students.

"He's probably Gambit's son" whispered Jubilee to Rouge, who in turn spread the news to anyone who would listen.

The young one finished washing the dish and was led down the hall gently. Remy had not looked back. He hardly noticed the whole student body, even if it filled the kitchen to capacity. "Where we going?" asked Leo, eyes sparkling with curiosity and straining to take everything in.

"Goin' t' see Chuck. Chuck'll help fix this". Exactly what 'this' was, Leo had no idea. But he nodded his head anyway, as if understanding. The word of Remy was not as significant as that of Shawn, but it was still pretty high up there. He may not have all the answers like Shawn, but Leo was sure he had most.

They arrived at the broad oak paneled door, and the thief entered without knocking. He walked silently, a habit long ago learned through occupation and practice. It was Leo's foot scraping against the door that made the man at the desk look up. He was surprised, shocked even. So much so in fact, that he was unintentionally projecting. Which was near impossible for a man of Xavier's telepathic ability. Remy could feel it radiating off of him in waves, the sharp spikes sending creeps down his body. Xavier had never been able to sense Remy, his shields were too refined. But Leo? He should have felt the child the instant he walked into the mansion.

"We need t' talk." With those four words, it had begun. The second piece had been shifted, and the rest would follow.


End file.
